When the Light Dimmed

My mother and I sat at her kitchen table. We chatted about another family member passing. Covid.

As we talked I brought up my grandmother, Julia, and how the death of her lifelong partner, Leocadio, affected her so deeply that less than a year later she too passed away. My mother looked into my eyes and asked knowing the answer to her question “what did she die of? She was strong and even toward the end her vitals were good.” I jumped in as we had all witnessed the real culprit of her death all along. It hid in plain sight. We saw it and we ignored it because we knew she was grieving his death. “Remember? It was Mother’s Day, 2011 when we all gathered at her house. We were all there with the kids, grandkids, great grandkids, aunts, uncles, food, flowers, and oh so many pictures.” In fact time slowed down for a moment as I started to recall that beautiful gathering. The flash of camera all directed at her. As if we all knew that her time was running out. As if we were trying to reassure her that she was not alone. I saw for the first time in her eyes, that the light she always carried had suddenly dimmed. Her smile was painted but not really there. I could see it. She was not there anymore. The coquaphany of the children and adults chatting, running and crying, laughing was all around and there she sat in the middle of it all yet all alone. Julia passed away June 7 2011, exactly one month after that Mother’s Day event.

I interrupted my mother and said, “Sadness.” My mother nodded and I continue, “sadness took her. She was upset that my grandfather left her. She left us because she was caught up in a deep depression that tugged at her mourning until she gave into it.” Again my mother nodded. We both agreed that it was sadness. Yet I did not realize that we were dancing around another painful reality. Her relative had just become a widow. A woman she knew who must be devastated at the loss of her lifelong love. My mother started to slowly weep as she asked me “she’s alone. What is she going to do without this man now?” I cried with her. I don’t know.

I drove home feeling a deep sadness that I could not shake. It made no sense. I barely knew this gentleman. Yet, my heart felt like it was breaking. And suddenly I realized, that the question my mother was asking about Margarita, was not just about a death in the family.

The question was bigger I think. My mother was asking how one deals with the blow of losing what may feel like part of your own soul. She was asking how do we deal with such a loss?

Suddenly I heard her asking me without saying it “how will I or u ever deal with such a loss?”

To which I don’t know.

Will we mourn and fight to get passed it or will we at some point let that flame in our eye eventually dim? I don’t think either is right or wrong or better or worst. All I know is that I hope that those of us left behind can be fortunate enough to have the love and support regardless of what path such loss takes us down.